In the snow
by rookanga
Summary: Ciel thought he was going to have the best birthday ever the year he turned ten. Instead, it was the beginning of the end. Looking for someone to blame, Ciel found the one responsible for making it snow.
1. Prologue

"Mother, will you tell me a bedtime story?"

Rachel Phantomhive smiled down at her young son. "Can I get a 'please' with that?"

"Please," Ciel said.

"Alright," Rachel laughed. "A quick one."

Ciel's blue eyes widened and his mouth opened into a smile. "Thank you, Mother, thank you!"

"Yes, yes," Rachel said. "Now get all tucked up before I start."

Ciel crawled under the covers, his enthusiasm causing the mattress to shift slightly. He grabbed the edge of his blanket and pulled it up to his chin. "There, Mother! _Now _will you tell me the story?"

Rachel smiled down at her young son as she sat at the foot of his bed. "There is a spirit named Jack Frost out there, do you know?"

Ciel shook his head, eyes full of awe.

"Yes," Rachel continued. "Do you know what he does?"

Ciel shook his head again.

"He nips you on the nose," Rachel said, quickly leaning over and touching Ciel's little nose. Ciel giggled. "But he also makes frost patterns, like the ones on the window, and brings the snow."

"The snow?" Ciel said. "Do you think he'll make it snow for my birthday?"

"Maybe," Rachel said. "But he's a free spirit. He does what he wants."

"Whatever he wants," Ciel echoed softly, looking at the delicate webs of frost adorning the window.

"Good night, darling," Rachel said, standing and picking up the candle. She left the room.

In the darkness, Ciel could no longer make out the patterns of frost on his windowpane, but he knew they were there. He smiled. "Jack Frost," he whispered. "Mother says you're a free spirit and do what you want. That sounds wonderful, but would you mind making it snow on my birthday? It's the fourteenth of December, and it would make it the best birthday ever. Thank you."

Ciel leaned back into his pillow and shut his eyes.

Jack Frost leaned in to peer into the window. He could barely make out the sleeping boy, but he knew he was there. "Someone is going to have the best birthday ever," Jack said.

The day of Ciel's tenth birthday arrived. He was more excited than he felt he ever had been when he woke up, but was disappointed to see that it was not snowing. Oh, well. It had been silly to believe that Jack Frost had been listening to a lowly British boy's birthday request when there were so many other, colder places.

Ciel struggled to keep his disappointment from showing as he and his mother walked through the market, but Rachel noticed anyway.

"Ciel, darling, what's the matter?"

He looked up at Rachel to answer when he saw a few flakes of snow fall from the sky. One came to rest on Ciel's nose. His face broke out in a huge grin. "Absolutely nothing, Mother!" his high voice exclaimed. "Today is the best birthday ever!"

Rachel smiled back. "I'm glad."

Jack smiled as he flew over London. "Bet that little kid was happy," he said.

He paused momentarily to rest on the belfry of a tall church and sighed, staring at the moon. "Who am I?" he inquired of it. "Am I as good as I try to be, or am I just kidding myself?" But, as usual, the moon continued its silence.

"You bastard!" he shouted, suddenly growing angry. "Answer me! Answer me!" He jumped off the belfry and flew higher and higher, fists balled and aimed toward the moon as if he could get close enough to hit it. And that was when he saw it.

It was nothing more than a bright orange glow. It looked like a fire. In these days when that was what people had for warmth and light, it wasn't uncommon to see one. What worried Jack was it's size. It looked about the size of the flame of a candle. But Jack was up high, so high that he shouldn't have been able to see any candle. So that flame must have been enormous, burning a mansion, perhaps.

Intrigued, Jack flew towards it and saw to his horror that it was the house where he'd seen the young boy whose birthday it was today.

He landed nearby and began to run toward the burning mansion, but he could feel heat coming off it. He collapsed in melted snow. He himself felt as if he were melting.

"There's nothing I can do for you," Jack whispered in way of an apology. Flying quickly away, but still staying near enough to keep watch on the mansion. He stared sullenly up at the moon. "If you could get the nerve up to help once, any time, now would be it." But still the moon was removed.

Before long Jack saw a glint of dark blue. It was the little boy. He was being carried out by someone Jack can't see well.

The boy, much to Jack's surprise, seemed to recognize Jack. Jack hadn't been seen ever, not that he can remember.

Ciel stared at who he knows is Jack Frost and said softly. "It's you." He suddenly began to kick at his attacker in an attempt to escape. "You!" he screamed. "It's your fault! I thought this was going to be the best birthday ever!" The last few words trailed off, once again quiet, both in the tone of his voice and in his actions, and Ciel realized he was crying.

Jack shook off the shock of being noticed and accused of ruining the best birthday ever and realized that the boy was being dragged away right in front of his eyes.

He flew faster than he thought he'd ever flown before, but somehow the boy's kidnapper stayed ahead of him.

Then Jack made the mistake of looking into the boy's eyes. They were a deep, deep blue, much darker than Jack's, and were a shade that Jack felt he could fall into and feel everything the boy felt.

And maybe he could, because suddenly Jack was overwhelmed with emotion. He was so frightened and sad, but angry too. Red-hot angry, hotter than the fire that had nearly killed Jack. Then, behind the anger, throbbing dully, was the feeling of utter hurt. And somehow Jack knew that that feeling was caused by him.

The tempest of emotions flung Jack head over heels, crashing into a statue set in the center of an ornate fountain. Dazed, his eyes closed. When he opened them again, the boy and his kidnapper were nowhere to be found.

**Okay. Jeez, am I stupid. I had never planned to write another chapter fic for a while after Prussia and Gilbert and the World, but then I posted Nations in New Hampshire. That's okay, because it's easy to write. But now I've taken on this monstrosity. So while I know where I want to go with this story, pretty much, it still might be a while between updates. **

**This was originally just going to be unconnected drabbles of Ciel and Jack, but then it suddenly has a plot. I know. **

**By the way, the main story will follow the Ciel we know and love, and will be set in the late 1880's like the anime/manga. I have not read much of the manga, though, so that's why there might be some glaring inaccuracies. Anyway, though it takes place during the anime, it will diverge from the plotline, so that's another reason for inaccuracies.**

**Thanks for reading, and I would love it if you gave a review!**


	2. Chapter 1

**I own neither Black Butler nor Rise of the Guardians.**

"Today we have a jasmine tea and bread pudding."

Ciel stuck his fork daintily into the bread pudding and put it carefully in his mouth, leaving no crumbs.

"Have we received any word from the queen?" Ciel asked.

"Yes, Young Master." Sebastian said, uncovering the letter that was resting on a silver platter. Ciel took it and broke the seal. His eyes scanned over it, flicking quickly back and forth. He then stood and turned to face the large picture window behind his desk. He glared out at the snow falling peacefully outside.

"This has been a snowy winter, and it isn't half over," Ciel remarked.

"Yes, it has," Sebastian agreed.

"I'm sure you've heard that during every snowfall at the end of last winter and so far during this one, there has been a murder committed."

"I have."

"The queen believes that it is related to the underworld because it only happens when it is snowing. It is snowing now," Ciel said. He turned his head toward his demon butler, but his body did not follow, "so now is the best time to look."

Ciel and Sebastian strode with purpose toward the clump of people that had formed. As Ciel grew closer, he saw a woman break away, catching tears on her finger. A man followed, gripping her wrist, and wrapped his arm around her, whispering what was probably reassurance.

"We are too late," Ciel said to Sebastian unemotionally before saying, louder, "Lord Randall."

The man turned and groaned. "Ciel Phantomhive."

Ciel held up his letter. "I have orders from the queen. I'm afraid you must include me in your investigation."

"Fine," the police commissioner snapped. "Aberline! Inform Earl Phantomhive what we have discovered during our investigation."

"What have we discovered during our investigation?" Aberline asked.

Randall only gave Aberline a glare, and then turned to confer with another inspector, signifying that that was all the response Aberline was going to receive.

"All right," Aberline sighed. "The first murder took place last winter. Do you remember how there was no snow until mid February?"

"Yes."

"Well, during that snow were three murders: Gavin Scharf, Elise Allenheim, and James Dorne. None was from a particularly high class, but that was all the similarity between the three. Then it stopped snowing for a week, and started back up in early March. There were two more murders that snow, of Alastair Jaeger and Daria Gelb.

"This winter alone," Aberline continued, "there have been another six murders. Eleanor Weber, Edmund Wolf, Sally Hofmann, Nathaniel Messer, Henry Hahn, and Frederick Liebfunden."

"And all during snows," Ciel mused.

In the carriage, Sebastian sat beside his master, holding a pad of paper and a pen. Ciel stared out the window, the eye closest to his butler obstructed by his eye patch.

"Is there anyone you wish for me to speak to, Young Master?"

"Snow," Ciel said, almost to himself. "What does it mean, snow?"

"I can tell you the causes of snowfall in meteorological terms if you wish," Sebastian answered.

Ciel's hand balled suddenly into a fist and he clenched his teeth. The motion caused even Sebastian to look staggered. "Snow," Ciel muttered. "It ruins…everything."

"Is there something you wish to tell me, Young Master?"

Ciel turned his head to look at Sebastian. "No," he said coldly. "Now, what is associated with snow?"

Sebastian quickly jotted down a list on the pad, and then, reading each one, punctuated the statement with the pen. "Winter, cold, starvation, purity, beauty, tranquility."

"Death," Ciel said.

"Quite, Young Master."

"When I was younger, and happier…before that was taken from me, I liked to play in the snow. Now I hate it as I hate the ones who humiliated me, who took my childhood and destroyed it.

"I don't understand," Ciel continued, frustrated. "Why only during the snow? Aberline said the victims had little in common." He turned to Sebastian again, a small, slightly malicious smile on his face. "Sebastian, do you know how to contact a spirit?"

Jack Frost was not the happiest of campers. He had just discovered that someone in London was killing in the snow. It wasn't as if he were the one sending the snowfalls; they happened without him as well, but he couldn't help but feel responsible for the deaths, a sickening feeling.

He knew he shouldn't be in London. He brought snow, and snow brought death. But he just couldn't help himself. He was going to find out who did this and put a stop to it.

"There's no such thing as Jack Frost, Young Master."

"I thought you were never to lie to me."

Sebastian sighed. It didn't make sense for there to be a Jack Frost (Sebastian was hundreds of years old and had never come across him), but Ciel seemed set in the belief that such a spirit did exist.

Ciel sat up straight, knocking his hat off balance. "Did you see that?"

"No, Young Master," Sebastian answered carefully.

"It was him! Jack Frost just flew past the carriage window!"

"I'm sure he did."

Ciel sat back, pouty. "You don't believe me."

"Of course I do," Sebastian countered.

Jack Frost had been flying around London, looking around quickly for any sign of a murderer, when he'd seen something that had shocked him off course and caused him to fly into a lamppost.

Or, rather, some_one_.

Jack couldn't be sure, but he was almost certain that a carriage he'd just passed was carrying the young boy who'd been kidnapped on his birthday a few years ago. Jack could never forget the face. Least of all those eyes.

He quickly backtracked and searched around the street for the carriage, but it was long lost among the bustle of London.

"I have to find him and apologize," Jack muttered to himself. He ignored the voice in his head telling him that, like everyone else, this boy wouldn't be able to see him. Jack knew he would be. He knew it. Though whether that was a good thing or a bad thing was yet to be ascertained.

He decided to check back at the site of the fire. The boy probably wouldn't be there, but it was worth a shot.

Only barely able to remember how to get to the place where the mansion had once stood, Jack found himself lost several times before he found his way.

And stopped short.

In front of him was the exact mansion that had burned the night Jack had been here last. Suspicious but still determined to find the boy, Jack flew to a window and looked in.

There was no one there, so he looked in several others. Finally he saw the boy. And then the boy happened to look in Jack's direction and his eyes–or, rather, his eye (what had happened to the other one? Jack didn't want to know.)–widened in surprise.

Ciel gasped at the sight of Jack Frost at his window. He ran over to it and, with some struggle, managed to lift it. "You!" he said. "Come in. I have to speak with you."

Jack, once again pushing aside his suspicion, flew into the room. "It's you," he said softly. "Listen, I'm sorry I couldn't rescue you. I swear what happened wasn't my fault."

Ciel waved his hand. "We can discuss that later. Perhaps with my butler present. No, now I wish to ask you why you have been murdering people."

"_Murdering _people?" Jack said. "No, I would never. I'm here trying to find out who _is_ doing it."

Ciel rocked back slightly on his heels. "So it isn't you?"

"No," Jack said. "But if you're trying to find out who it is, though I don't see why; you're only a boy, I would be more than happy to help." He almost added, 'Because you're the only one who can see me,' but bit his tongue just in time. While he highly doubted that a child could use that against him, that was just it; Ciel was a child. Jack knew that children were not as reasonable as they could have been, and Ciel was likely still bearing a grudge over what had happened.

"I am on the case," Ciel said professionally, "but I'm afraid I rarely work with anyone but my butler. I only use outside sources for consultation."

"I'll be a consultant," Jack said eagerly. "Please let me."

Ciel pursed his lips. Perhaps if he kept the spirit closer, Sebastian would begin to believe, making killing him easier. "Very well," he agreed finally.

Unaware of Ciel's scheming mind, Jack nodded enthusiastically and shook Ciel's hand. "I'm Jack Frost."

"Ciel Phantomhive."

**I wanted to make this longer, but I also wanted to update. So, here you are. Have a nice day.**

**A note on the narration: for most of the chapter, I used third person for Jack, Ciel, and briefly Sebastian. At the end I used omniscient narration. (You'll notice how Jack is thinking of Ciel by his name, even though Jack doesn't know it yet.) But because the time spent on each POV are all pretty short, you can just consider it omniscient the entire time. **

**Thanks to Saya Kurobara and Gus Kinney The Prodigal Son for their reviews. Want to be somehow as cool as them? Review!**


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